Divergence
by Irwein
Summary: He was born with many duties: to his country, to his feelings, to his king. Intricate webs of blood, loyalty and desire made him a prince far too different from others.
1. Prologue

**Summary: **He was born with many duties: to his country, to his feelings, to his king. Intricate webs of blood, loyalty and desire made him a prince far too different from others.

**Notes: **This story takes place during Path of Radiance's storyline, following the original plot in a general sense. There will be no pairings (there are _hints_ of canon pairings, but only if you squint).

**Beta: **IsaDaYDrEaMer and Tami. (Many thanks!)

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Divergence

**Prologue**

The emotions were running wild, increasing with each soul consumed by them. Fear, agony, pain, grief, despair –The battle had strewn the Crimean soil with blood. He surveyed the scene playing ahead of him, his face set in an expression of controlled indifference to all despite the disgust he felt with the mere idea of unfounded bloodshed. Many battles had unfolded before him prior to this one, but none matched the cruelty of the invasion of Crimea on the orders of King Ashnard of Daein.

Soldiers clad in black armor slaughtered the unprepared Crimeans, fighters and civilians alike. The emotions coursing through them were driving him to the brim of insanity. His own cursed blood was screaming out for him to take part in the killing, yet he contained himself; his façade of apathy was only betrayed by the slight trembling of his fists.

Soren was most disgusted at sharing the bloodlust of the man that was his father. At the front lines, King Ashnard was leading the charge with a maniac glint in his eyes as he almost merrily cut down anyone foolish enough to stand before him. Seeing this both sickened and made Soren crave to join the fray; a battlefield as such made his feral instincts to slowly crawl to the surface.

However, he forced himself to watch. This bloodshed had been the result of his weakness, of his fear to oppose his father. Bearing with that thought was only part of his divine punishment –The screams, the pleas of mercy, the cries of children before their dead parents– they would all hunt him until his life's breath left him. Even though Soren was forced to give out the strategy that allowed King Ashnard to lay waste to an innocent country, the guilt still rested on him. Had he been stronger… had he been fearless… But many things had weighted him down. As a prince, he had a duty. As Prince Daein, he was obliged to bend to his father's will. And as a simple, living being, he had to hold true to his heart.

The battle advanced quickly, Crimea was losing any opportunity to get the upper hand, as Soren had expected. Daein's main army had finally secured the castle. The prince was left at the entrance of the castle with a small unit to guard him until further orders. The Daein army was rounding up all those that were defending the building; the king had dived into Crimea Castle to hunt for the royal family, his wyvern viciously tearing apart the walls to make its way through.

Soren contemplated the soldiers serving his father: they shared the same trait –fear of defying the Mad King. They would often confuse that for loyalty. He couldn't help but scoff. Many considered the opportunity to raise their social standing by proving their worth in the military to be a one-in-a-lifetime blessing. Many sought to rise amongst the army, but once they joined, they saw the real horrors of King Ashnard. They were obliged to obey, fearing the king's retribution –death.

He only took the best, and if they failed to satisfy King Ashnard's expectations or tried to turn back, they were as good as dead. For twenty years, Daein had fallen into their king's tyranny silently; no word of it had been relayed to other countries. Yet no one had risen to stand against it openly. Day by day, the people endured the suffering, lived in fear, oppressed by their king's very whim.

Soren himself had experienced his countrymen's pain since the day he was born. The first thing he learned was to please. He had to excel, he had to stand out to earn the praise of his father. The price for his failure, however, was not his own life. Had it been so, Soren would have been able to escape King Ashnard's grasp with ease.

As Soren grew up, his prowess in spell casting exceeded his instructor's expectations, but it was the prince's brilliance at war strategy was what picked the Mad King's attention. His father had been so far displeased that his son showed no aptitude to wield a weapon, yet he finally found Soren's genius far more useful to him –There were many great warriors in his army and they were an easier find than a brilliant mind to strategize. However, the king needed to harness his son's talent exclusively for his twisted plans.

Ashnard was cunning in the ways of torture and manipulation. Over the years, he had allowed brief meetings between Soren and Almedha, letting the young prince taste the ephemeral feeling of warmth and content that only his mother could offer him. As mother and child had grown close, Ashnard made his move: he took his child's mother hostage, guaranteeing Soren's absolute obedience. This had been so ever since Soren had turned of age and was acknowledged as the heir to the throne; when he had gained the standing to command and, in Ashnard's view, to rebel against him.

A shout of alarm made his mind drift back to the present situation. Soren turned towards the source of it, focusing to decipher the words over the noise of the army: "… halt the Crimean princess' escape! All units on standby give chase!"

His guard prepared to comply. However, as the troop of riders spilled into the castle's courtyard, Soren was immediately suspicious. Princess Crimea's flight should be executed with stealth if they hoped for a chance of success. He doubted that even the inexperienced commanders were dumb enough to send the princess' escort into the enemy's front –unless it was a diversion.

Soren quickly pressed against the castle walls, further into the shadows of the night, escaping the Crimean troop's notice as they engaged his guard and the remaining Daein soldiers at the plaza. He stayed alert, trying to hear anything that foretold the arrival of white-clad reinforcements. After a few moments, the prince slipped through the castle's portico unnoticed. His mind was racing, playing out the possible scenarios before him. He didn't know what possessed him to aim to locate the Crimean princess. Was it his desire to prove himself useful? Or the mere curiosity…?

Yet, when he reached one of the peripheral halls, all reasoning died in him. The king of Crimea lay still amidst a pool of blood, his arm held out, still clutching his sword. A lady, possessing the regal appearance of one with royal blood, was standing before King Ashnard with her arms spread out wide, shielding a younger woman who was trembling in fear behind her. However, the Crimean king's wife was not begging for her life, instead she spoke fearlessly to Daein's ruler, promising the restoration of Crimea against any hardships imposed to her country.

"Our deaths won't halt the desire of liberty from our people. One day, they will rise and strike back to regain the sovereignty of the country they love. That will be the day Crimea will be reborn into a better, stronger country!"

Ashnard was amused; he laughed derisively at her while he motioned for his guards to stand down. In response to the lady's words, he slashed Gurgurant down on her mercilessly. The princess seemed frightened beyond words, as no sound escape from her lips, tears streaming down her face as her eyes darted towards the motionless forms of her parents.

The king turned to her now. She made no move to escape. Her eyes were fixed on the man towering her, her body completely still now, as if waiting for the strike that would end her life.

_Fool! Get out of there! _Soren found himself thinking desperately. He reached down into his robes to a small pouch. He couldn't watch any longer as this girl was about to waste her mother's sacrifice.

"Let us reunite you with your dear parents, little princess. Don't worry; you'll be gone so fast you won't even fell it!" Ashnard let out another shout of his terrible laugher before bringing Gurgurant up, fresh blood dripping down the edge of the blade, preparing to slice through the princess' fragile body.

However, he was surprised to find his sword colliding against a pair of knives with a loud clank of metal against metal. The force of the hit threw Soren out of balance, his knives soaring out of his grasp. He landed painfully on his side, aware of the warm blood spilling down his arm, soaking his long sleeve. He had nearly no experience fighting with weapons and standing against his father, who was an experienced swordsman with a mightier physical strength than him, without any opportunity to unleash a spell was a suicidal move.

He felt the rough hand of his father around his throat, hoisting him up brutally, his feet dangling a feet above the floor. "How gallant of you to save that girl's neck." Soren felt Ashnard's foul breath on his face as he fought to breath. "Were you moved by that woman's words, perhaps? Ha! How very amusing you are, my son!"

He was flung against the wall. His head collided with the hard surface causing bright spots erupt in his sight. But soon, Soren felt a snide smirk forming on his face as heard his father scream in rage when numerous riders stormed through the hall. Using their mounts' speed, the Crimeans struck at the few soldiers of Daein's Royal Guard, buying enough time for a young knight in green armor to safely hoist the princess behind him on his white stallion. The next moment, they were gone before the king had time to strike back.

Ashnard immediately sent his guard to give chase, but Soren highly doubted the infantry would catch up with the knights' horses. He was dimly aware of the consequences of his actions as consciousness was slipping out of his reach. His pounding instincts were fading into nothing. Soren was again pulled up roughly.

Darkness was creeping at the corners of his eyes as he stared dully into his father's raging face. "You stinking child –you let my prey escape." The king slammed Soren against the wall, drawing a gasp of pain from the prince. "I trust you know the punishment for betrayal. Or _any_ disobedience, to speak of."

Soren forced himself to maintain his focus on his father's cruel eyes. "My life means nothing."

"I know that, you little freak." The maniac light was returning to his eyes. "However, I hope you're ready to see your mother begging and writhing in agony as she witnesses your death first hand."


	2. One

_**Divergence**_

**I**

She didn't know that the fresh, pure air that only the hours before dawn could bring would cause her so much pain. The forest had become a confusing blur of leaves, dirt and shadows as they rode silently deeper into the night. The wind whipped against her delicate face stricken down by tears she had shed as a stranger murdered her parents in front of her. They stung her cheeks, yet she took little notice of them, trying to concentrate only in the warmth she tried to encompass with her slight arms, wrapped around the knight's waist.

Geoffrey had remained silent ever since they escaped from Melior. He had wanted to spare the princess from forcing out words neither of them would actually understand and the following silence that would be even more painful than the last. The paladin urged his tired mount further into the woods, concentrating on the road ahead instead of giving into the frustration that was taking a permanent rest in his chest.

He forced himself to stay strong for his princess, now the only heir to the throne of Crimea. Geoffrey knew what was resting on his shoulders; he needed to save the last shred of hope of his country. Crimea could be rebuilt and her people would heal as long as Princess Elincia was alive and well. But right now, in her broken state, the paladin could do no more than to get her to safety.

Had it not been for the sudden distraction of King Ashnard, rescuing the princess would have been impossible without any casualties. Geoffrey did not know the identity of the one that had jumped in to block King Daein's fatal strike; the young man was obviously not one of the soldiers of Crimea. A vassal, perhaps? He briefly prayed for the princess' saviour's safety. He didn't want to think what would have happened if his princess had not been saved.

Heeding King Ramon's last order, Geoffrey and Lucia had been charged to escort the princess to Gallia, where they hoped to find aid. They had split up, using Lucia's unit as a decoy and Geoffrey took his own group of cavaliers to rescue Princess Elincia. Not long after Geoffrey's troop had made their escape into the forest around the castle, they had been followed viciously into the night. Lucia had taken the rest of the unit to stop their advances, buying time for Geoffrey to ride out of Daein's reach.

Geoffrey urged his horse once more; they were being followed closely again. They had no choice other than exiting the forest, rather than being ambushed in the woods. With one last effort, his white horse leapt high and gracefully into the main road.

* * *

Biting down on the end of a scrap of cloth, he used his free hand to pull the other end of it, tightly wrapping the makeshift bandage around his arm, stemming the blood flow. Panting at the effort, Soren ripped yet another piece of his long, dark cloak to wrap around his wound. It was quite deep and it possibly needed a few stitches or magic before it healed completely, but at his current predicament, he couldn't anything more about it.

As he leaned against his cell's cold stone walls, he realized with slight alarm how quickly his body was tiring after such a little endeavour. He had lost a considerable amount of blood in the time he had been unconscious as they brought him to prison. He noted the trembling of his hands, his skin deathly pale against the slight illumination of the moonlight streaming from the cell window. Soren closed his eyes, feeling the floor give away underneath him, as his surroundings began to spin deviously as if to make him lose his sanity.

The prince landed on his uninjured arm, feeling too light-headed to stay in an upright position. He fought to remain conscious –he knew falling into the open arms of sleep could be fatal in his state.

His cell's door opened, letting a sliver of torch light fall onto his pale profile. A rough hand clasped around his injured limb, but Soren was too weak to protest at the searing pain he felt. His bandage was quickly removed and shortly after that cool salve was applied on his wound.

The prince opened his eyes, barely distinguishing the silhouette of a man hovering above him in his blurry vision. The man hastily wrapped a clean bandage around his arm and stood up.

* * *

Soren heard the door being locked behind the man who had treated his wound. He thought he saw sympathy in the man's eyes.

"Very well, I shall attend immediately," Ike told the messenger that had been sent for him on King Caineghis' behalf. The preparations for their departure to the Crimean port of Toha were almost ready. The busy atmosphere that had taken amongst their forces had helped him distract from the many uncertainties that lay ahead in their journey. But Ike was quick to dismiss those thoughts; he couldn't let them weight him down in such a crucial time; he'd told himself to hold a strong front for all those who now depended on him.

"King Caineghis, we're here as you've requested," Elincia politely announced her and Geoffrey's presence, along with the Greil Mercenaries' commander and second-in-hand's. The King of Gallia motioned for the four of them to take a seat around the table of his conference chamber.

"Make yourselves comfortable. Before your departure to Begnion, I want to pass upon some information I've recently gathered to you," he said while stroking his massively bearded chin thoughtfully. He addressed Elincia, "Are you familiar with the Prince of Daein, Princess?"

A look of surprise dawned on her face. "I-I've heard of him, but not much, I'm afraid."

"No surprise in there. He's been keeping a low profile before now."

"As far as I know," Titania piped in, "he has just come of age six months ago. But, may I ask, why does this concern us, Your Majesty?"

"The spies I dispatched to Daein tell me that there's been uproar at the capital. Apparently, it revolves around said prince. The night of the invasion of Crimea, Prince Soren was arrested under claims of betrayal to the king, and his execution was fixed to take place in the coming week."

"What? How can that be possible?" Titania exclaimed, surprised. "No child would dare betray his father!"

"It seems like the prince is not as compliant as King Ashnard would like," King Caineghis said with a hint of amusement. "I don't know the terms they are in, but Prince Soren is well known for his thoughtful actions on behalf of his countrymen in Daein. Ever since his come of age ceremony, I've been informed that the prince has been working covertly to ensure his people's welfare at the best of his capabilities.

"This has earned him great popular liking amongst his countrymen. They see him as their only beacon of hope to defy their king's tyranny. I can only think that King Ashnard took this as a dangerous obstacle in his reign and decided to dispatch his son under some underhanded claim. And there was no better opportunity than the time of the invasion, with the chaos and uncertainty running high."

"… Does Your Highness know under which claims did King Ashnard's men imprison the prince?" Geoffrey spoke suddenly.

"Hm. Interference. Betrayal. What might be in your mind, Sir Geoffrey?"

The knight hesitated as he contemplated the events at Crimea Castle. Geoffrey glanced over at his liege before answering. "It may be possible… that it was the prince himself who made possible Princess Elincia's escape that night." He paused, trying to weave his thoughts into words to end the stunned silence he had created with his statement. "When I reached the princess, Ashnard was being distracted by a young, dark haired man—"

"It was him," Elincia spoke suddenly. "T-that man… was about to… He raised his sword over me… Someone came to my aid, but I believe he was injured when he deflected the blow." Geoffrey clenched his fists; hearing his princess speak of the events she had not confided in anyone before rekindling the frustration in him. "King A-Ashnard then hoisted the young man up by his neck. I remember he mocked him… and then he called him his son…"

"Princess! Are you certain?"

"Yes, I am. I-I recalled it clearly now." She took a trembling breath.

"Mere hours before Daein invaded Crimea we received a warning from one of the farming villages in the border. It was a sheepherder that gave voice to the alarm, but one can't be sure of the appearances; it could be anyone under that disguise… If we assume that the claims against the Prince of Daein to be true, there's a possibility it might be him who leaked information about the attack."

"It's hard to imagine that it might be thanks to a Daein prince that I was able to e-escape safely from Melior…," Elincia voiced out what must've been passing through the minds of those present.

Geoffrey nodded dully. Had it not been because of the forehanded warning, there would've been no time to prepare a small platoon to escort Princess Elincia safely out of the clutches of Daein's army.

"Then again, I suppose there's always people who'll stand against the decisions of their rulers, might them be right or not," Titania said optimistically. "This Prince Soren might be one of those and—"

"-you suppose he might be the rallying point for those who don't approve of Ashnard's actions?" Ike interjected, realization suddenly flooding through his mind. It was certainly some good news, but…

"It's a shame," Geoffrey sighed, "that Prince Soren is unable to take action in his current predicament, what with his execution arranged."

"Actually, this is where the news I want to let you know come in," Caineghis said, now with a slight smirk on his lips. "Two days ago, a group composed of both soldiers and citizens rose against the military forces in Nevassa. After a hard fight, they managed to free Prince Soren. These recent events have made things very unstable in Daein, now that their king is not present. And as Ike says, the prince is now a symbol of freedom from the reign of Ashnard."

"… I see!" Elincia couldn't help with feel hope reignite in her entire being. "If it's that so, Prince Soren will most likely avoid any more bloodshed."

"Not only that, Ashnard's forces might even suffer a considerable lose. This is almost too good for us," Geoffrey added.

"Then we should move out at once," spoke Ike. "We can't let an opportunity like this to slip up."

"That is, if we trust that Daein's prince intentions are as we expect," Caineghis was quick to point out. "I may not be the most knowledgeable in the ways of beorc, but one needs to be prepared for the worst to happen. All we know about this prince are mere whispers, we cannot be certain that he'll readily lend his aid to Crimea."

"We'll hope for the best… and be prepared for the worst," said Ike, standing up. "But we'll succeed no matter what."

* * *

The open space and lush green wilderness was something he was not familiar with. Ever since he had memory, he had been confined to the royal palace in Nevassa, and the closest experience of nature was the large garden in there, which had the touch of man's hand on it. Being out of the capital for the first time brought many uncertainties upon him; his country's future weighted on his shoulders yet he couldn't turn back now. He tried to relax his body's stiffness with limited success, fingering the bandage on his arm absentmindedly.

"Prince Soren." He nodded towards the approaching figure of the retired general to acknowledge his presence, letting his arm drift back to his side discreetly and even so, this movement didn't go unnoticed by the experienced general. "I'm aware that this hard ride has tired you greatly, but we're finally within a day from our base. Please bear with us a little longer."

"Don't mind me, Tauroneo. It's necessary that we advance as much as we can, unless we want to find ourselves surrounded by Ashnard's men." Soren returned his gaze to the horizon, where the sun was bleeding crimson, a reminder of how many lives his country had taken in the name of Mad King Ashnard.

Knowing too well the prince's cold and dismissive attitude, Tauroneo chose not to further the topic of their travel. Instead, he addressed a matter that had been concerning him since they had freed the prince. "We seem to have gotten Your Highness into quite a mess, with King Ashnard, nonetheless."

Soren spared him as much as a glance. "It is true that I did not ask for you or your allies to free me from Nevassa's prison. However, this is a fate I cannot escape; it was a matter of time that I had to confront _him_ directly." He didn't look worn anymore, instead an unusual resolve washed over his profile, Tauroneo noticed. "I have never approved of his methods, but I didn't seek to face him nor involve other nation in our petty dispute. If this continues, it will escalate into a more intense conflict," Soren stated the situation grimly.

"Those who are loyal to Your Highness will remain by your side, even if we face our own countrymen, for we know we are defending the just cause."

The prince nodded slightly in appreciation, and without another word, returned to the camp. Their men were exhausted, and Soren did not wish to dampen their high spirits with his own worries, as much as he wanted to take his frustration out with a few cynic comments.

* * *

**A/N: **(grovels) I'm so sorry! Not only do I mess up with the chapter order but I update really, really late... (throws self to the ground). This is an un-beta-ed version, but it would do it no good to keep catching more dust in my harddrive when I know you guys are waiting for a new chapter. Thank you all who've added Divergence to your favourite/alert lists! Your opinions on the story are always appreciated. Until then, ta ta!

**Edit:** 05/06/2010 - Revised version is up.


	3. Two

_**Divergence  
**_**II**

_Stay back and act as if you don't exist!_ It was a simple command he'd learned to obey unquestioningly early in life. This time, it was no different. They had taken refuge in the basement of a temple for a few weeks now. The garrison was starting to grow restless, eyes looking up at him expectantly each time he put a foot out of his small quarters. Soren didn't blame them. They had risked everything in a desperate move to free him from the gallows and so far Soren had yet to make a move against Ashnard. But he still had his doubts; he'd certainly not asked for a public movement on his behalf, and this was bound to complicate the whole situation. With soldiers and civilians involved, there was no step backward.

Soren arranged the hood of his monk robes so his dark locks were hidden from view. If any of them were to step outside their refuge, they had agreed to disguise themselves as monks at the service of the Goddess. The prince scoffed (albeit mentally) at the irony of it, himself being a skeptic of religion and whatnot. Silently, he slipped past the guards at the entrance of the basement without any sign of amiability and worked his way to one of the rooms in the upper level, seeking a distraction to his inner turmoil.

He had come across the room on the second day since his arrival while he ran a search through the temple. It had been a fascinating discovery the first time he rested his eyes on the room, but his curiosity had been slowly dissipating into an odd emotion; pity, he thought it was. The engravings in the walls were writings in the ancient tongue, one he did not understand fully, but had a general idea due to his studies in magic. He'd learned that whoever had lived in the room, had also met their final day in there too. There were also names mentioned in there too –Lillia, Elena, a medallion…

Soren had thought he'd scoured all the information he could from the walls, but the day before, he had come across another clue to the puzzle: A white feather tucked underneath the mattress. Though unsure at first that there would be a bird large enough to own such feather, the only answer to the never-ending puzzle that came to mind was that the owner of the feather had been a heron of the royal family, which was in his not-so-humble opinion, ridiculous.

He'd been mulling over the fragments of information he had at his disposal for several days now, an escape to his whirling thoughts about his country, their king and the future ahead. As far as saw, there was little space for their group of rebels to move out. After all, Ashnard had brilliant advisors in his court and together with his ambitious and cruel personality, he was sure to leave Soren in a tight spot one way or other. His hands had always been tied and his future had one certainty: he'd die in the hands of his countrymen.

Soren let out a shaky sigh resembling a bitter laugh. He had to admit that the king was very cunning when it came to manipulating his son, one he had never considered his own flesh and blood. He was lucky to be alive, at the expense of being used as a tool at the very whim of Ashnard.

Soren woke suddenly from his thoughts at the sound of heavy footsteps that stopped just outside of the doorway. He straightened, flattening nonexistent wrinkles from his robes.

"Come in," he spoke before the general could announce his presence.

"Excuse me for my intrusion, Your Highness." Tauroneo made his way into the room, glancing briefly at the wall's writings. "Our scouts report a small group of citizens that are being chased by King Ashnard's men. They appear to have leaded an uprising movement against the reign in the nearby towns."

_Fools._ "Is that so? Who's leading them?"

"The reports state that they are led by a 'silver-haired maiden', Prince Soren."

"Am I to assume that they are making their way towards this temple?" The mage almost sighed in frustration as he received an affirmative answer to this. "They're making this even more difficult than it is without even realizing it. General Tauroneo, ready the garrison. We're setting out before dawn; we don't want these monks to get involved more in this. We'll intercept this so called group of 'liberators' before they cause any more trouble."

* * *

She berated herself repeatedly for her foolishness. They had allowed the bandits to stall them long enough for the Daein soldiers to catch up to them. She had expected the bandits to turn back when the soldiers arrived, but they were perhaps more astute than they had let on: they had quickly sided with the newcomers; if they handed the silver-haired maiden to the soldiers the bandits would be rewarded; this was King Ashnard's reign after all. This turn of events was for the worst for their small group as they were being attacked from both fronts. Micaiah was filled with guilt: she had led her friends to their end. The only thing that eased her guilt, if only slightly, was that she had sent Kurth ahead to seek refuge since he was unable and unwilling to fight. Hopefully, he wouldn't fall into the hands of the soldiers.

Suddenly, when they were completely surrounded, the image of a young boy appeared in her mind's eye, one he would never see again. _Sothe… Please forgive me. But I suppose this is for the best._

"Graaah! These whelps have reinforcements attacking from the back!" one of the bandits shouted in alarm.

Micaiah's eyes suddenly focused at the rear entrance of the town, where a small group of fighters bearing no flag were engaging the battle.

"Huh? I didn't know we had friends here!" Edward exclaimed in surprise, trying his best to fend off a bandit with his rusty sword.

"Everyone!" Micaiah called out urgently. "Let's fight our way towards that group! It's our best chance to survive!"

"Are you sure we can trust these people?" Leonardo was quick to ask, notching another arrow at the ready.

"We don't have another choice. An enemy of our foes is technically our ally." Nolan nodded at Micaiah before throwing a soldier off balance with a swing of his axe; at the same time, Aran managed to fell another of their opponents, creating an opening for them to pass through. "Move out!"

* * *

"Excuse me, sir, may I ask to speak with your leader?"

"He is waiting at the woods to speak with you," one of the fighters that had arrived in their aid answered to Micaiah after the battle had finished and the last enemies routed.

"Micaiah, we'll go with you," Nolan stated firmly. She could tell that they were all worried, if not suspicious of the unexpected aid they had received. If anything, the absence of the commander in the battlefield was an unsettling fact.

"I know. Let's go speak to their leader."

The small brigade spotted the one they thought to be the commander not far after stepping into the shadow of the trees. There was only one escort, a veteran soldier wearing a massive white armor. The leader –the one in dark garments that contrasted with his companion's armor– lowered his hood in order to address them properly. Micaiah immediately noticed his most striking features at once: blood red eyes and the partially hidden birthmark upon his forehead. A feeling of foreboding suddenly rushed through her and she knew that the stranger had also realized what she was as he sized her up.

"I assume you're the one they call the 'silver-haired maiden, savior of the needed'," Soren said without bothering with pleasantries.

"That is correct… sir. I'd like to thank you for your aid in this battle. We would have been wiped out by the bandits and the soldiers if you hadn't helped us out." She bowed her head to show her gratitude.

The prince acknowledged the gesture with a curt nod. "There's no need. To be blunt, I was actually forced into this mess by you."

"What? How come?"

"Edward, behave yourself." Nolan put a hand on the young sword user to placate him.

Soren was unfazed by the sudden burst of emotion and continued on as if nothing as much as a fly had passed. "As you know, certain prince is currently keeping a low profile in order to stay hidden from King Ashnard's men. But what happens when a group of inexperienced youngsters start to wreck havoc right under the soldiers' noses?"

"If you haven't noticed, the people of Daein are being savaged by the bandits –even by the Begnion border patrols! Not only that, but this new edict of King Ashnard to recruit any person able to wield a weapon into the army is ruining our country. We can't leave our people to suffer!" This time, it was the Leonardo that spoke in outrage, unable to hold himself back anymore. Aran looked ready to protest too, Laura's grip on his hand being the only thing that was containing him. Who was this guy to scold and call them 'youngsters' when he himself did not look any older than most of their brigade?

Tauroneo showed signs of wanting to reprimand the young archer for his disrespect, but Soren stopped him with a glance. The general had the feeling that the prince was enjoying the confrontation far too much for his liking.

"I suppose so," Soren said evenly. "Bandits and border patrols must be the most terrible beings in existence! Why, the full might of the Daein army is nothing compared to those scoundrels!" The prince fixed his gaze in the stricken group in front of him with all seriousness. "Had you put another toe out of the line, King Ashnard's men would not have hesitated to hunt you down to squash you like an insignificant insect, burning down every town and village that has as much as offered you to stay a night without a care in world."

It took a few moments for Micaiah to regain her composure. "I… I see your point. You've opened our eyes, sir. Now I see we have been far too rash. Even so, we did not intend to inconvenience you or the prince, for that matter. We merely wanted to help out our people."

"Then, I would suggest you to do so planting your feet firmly on the earth," Soren said snidely.

"I apologize for our thoughtless actions, sir. I-If it was possible, I'd even like to apologize in kind to prince himself–"

"And said prince happens to be me."

Soren had to admit, he was indeed having a bit of fun with these people. Seeing their visages of total disbelief and confusion was almost enough to make up for their foolishness, in his opinion. Almost. Ah, what the frustration of being cooped up in a temple full to the brim of monks could do to you.

But before the prince could speak again, Tauroneo decided to relieve the brigade off Soren's cynical tongue, if only a little. "Please, Your Highness, you have other matters to discuss with this group."

"I suppose so," Soren agreed, more serenely now. "As for late introductions, I'm Prince Soren of Daein. This is General Tauroneo, commander of this garrison."

"I-It's an honor to meet you, Your Highness," Micaiah fumbled with her words as she could not think of what else to say and bowed hastily to show her respect. It was the first time she was thrown off her feet and was unsure of what exactly to do, with all the surprises that had been thrown to her by the prince. There was also de fact that she had never met royalty and had never learned how to behave correctly, in their protocols. She settled in introducing herself and her companions to Soren and his general. Meanwhile, the other members of the brigade were saluting the prince in kind (albeit somewhat stiffly), with Nolan forcing Leonardo and Edward to bow even lower with both of his large hands on their heads while telling them to apologize to the prince.

Soren's lips twitched half in amusement, half in annoyance at their antics. "That's enough of pleasantries. Let's move on to the topic at hand. Daein's troops have started hostile movements against all those who rise against King Ashnard's reign as of late. Today's skirmish was just one of the many that will break out in my name. I'd rather not risk any other public upraising supposedly on my name until the time is correct or we'll risk major military movements against us. Starting from you, I'd like to recruit all the people that are willing to free Daein from King Ashnard's reign. Will you accept?"

* * *

"I can't believe the prince is actually quite a jerk," Edward complained as Micaiah's group began setting up their tent, just a few hours after the meeting with Prince Soren. At Micaiah's request, the prince had given them time to consider their decision of joining him, telling them to stay the night at the camp.

"Edward," Nolan said under his breath warningly.

"What? From what we've all heard, I imagined him to be more of a kind, humble leader–"

"I think he was the best intentions in heart," Micaiah interjected. "But he's reserved in that matter."

"Well, isn't that great. A contradicting character is leading the only force against Ashnard…"

"Leonardo! Edward! Please mind your words," Nolan seemed to finally snap. "We're in Prince Soren's camp; it's not a wise decision to speak ill of him like you do. I doubt Prince Soren's men –the very ones that have risked their lives to free him from the clutches of the king– will appreciate you insulting their hope for freedom. In life, you'll have to grow up and learn to work with people that are not always of your liking. Prince Soren's words –however harsh they might be– are true."

Both boys glared defiantly to their elder in response. It was Micaiah who broke the tense silence. "I understand how you are feeling." She hesitated, trying to phrase her thoughts. "We've been hearing of the many good deeds made by Prince Soren; we know that our people hold a great respect for his kindness in moments of great need, when King Ashnard isn't fulfilling his duties to wage war against Crimea. I think we fit him in a whole different picture, so it's understandable that we are a bit upset after meeting him."

Edward still looked doubtful, but Micaiah had nailed the issue right on the head. "So you're basically saying that we should trust him, anyways?"

"Edward, I'm not… You don't have to bend at my will. I think we should trust Prince Soren, but I can't force you all to do the same. All I can say is that I do believe the prince's conscious of his duties to his country and that he will work to restore Daein, no matter what."

"… Well, all I can say is that we have no other choice." Edward slumped tiredly in front of their camp fire. "I mean, I don't really like him, but joining him it's the only way to help free Daein from the Mad King. And, well, if the prince can't do it, I'll make sure our cause is fulfilled! So count me in."

"If you put it in that way… We can't say no to the prince's request. It'd be suicidal to continue on fighting Ashnard on our own, and we'd be putting our countrymen in danger too." Leonardo joined his childhood friend by the fire, looking dejected and bitter. He thought back of his parents, who were murdered because they did not accept to lend aid to Ashnard.

"I don't want anyone to get hurt anymore," Laura spoke up. "Prince Soren has aided us many times, even though it means endangering his father's reputation" –Leonardo and Edward couldn't help sharing a snigger; it wasn't that Ashnard's reputation was any good at all before– "If he fights for the good of Daein, I'd be happy to help out. I believe he can restore our country."

Micaiah nodded in agreement. "What about you, Aran?"

"I'll support Prince Soren if it means the restoration of Daein as a better country. I want to do as much as I can about it."

"I think likewise," Nolan stated as well.

"I see. Then I'll report to Prince Soren to tell him we're joining in his ranks." Micaiah couldn't help but steal a glance at the forest behind them, in hopes to see a figure covered by a tan, hooded robe.

"Are you worrying about that kid that you told to flee the battle?" Nolan asked her quietly.

Micaiah nodded, closing her eyes. "Yes. I hope Kurth managed to escape."

"He'll be fine; he seemed a rather stubborn kid," the axe-wielder said reassuringly, as the others broke into a friendly chatter.

The Silver-Haired Maiden smiled gratefully as she stood. "I'll go meet the prince now."

* * *

The very few papers of military information that Tauroneo had procured from the capital before their departure were now amidst piles of new parchment, each full to the brim with a tight yet neat handwriting. Since their forces had started engaging the Mad King's in spare skirmishes, Soren had taken great care in updating the registries of supplies, weapons and medical state of the garrison. This usually meant many hours of unbreakable concentration, and that night, the prince was not at all happy to see that he had a visitor.

"Kurth, was it?" he spoke addressing the shadow that had been outside the tent for a few moments, as if hesitant of announcing his presence.

The hooded youth entered the tent, a small, sheepish smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "Prince Soren. I'm sorry to interrupt your work."

Soren dipped his quill into the ink bottle and continued writing down statistics into the piece of parchment. "No need for apologies. You did say you wished to speak with me after everything had settled down," he said, not even looking at his visitor. "What is it that you want to talk about?"

Kurth seemed to be uncomfortable with the lack of warmth in Soren's voice, but did not comment on it. It had been quite a shock the first time he met the prince, during the skirmish at the village. He remembered too well his sister's harsh words when she left Goldoa, many years back. His nephew's voice held the same iciness that Almedha had used back then. However, Kurthnaga's joy at seeing his long lost nephew was nearly overwhelming. He wanted to talk about many things to Soren, but for now, he would have to speak cautiously to avoid upsetting him.

Soren, on the other hand, was irritated by Kurthnaga's hesitation. He finally put down his quill and turned on his chair to address his guest rudely, "What do you want from me? Or is it that your kind's instincts are telling you not to even speak to me?"

Kurthnaga took a step back in surprise. So he could actually sense he wasn't a beorc. "N-no. I am… not sure of how to–"

"–how to treat an abomination like me? How to speak to someone who doesn't even deserve to exist?" Soren hissed to the laguz. "I don't know what do you want from me, but from I've seen from your kind, I don't expect anything worthwhile at all."

"I didn't intend to upset you. I…," Kurthnaga fumbled to find words to express what his chest was bursting to spill. "I must have known you wouldn't want to meet one of… our kind. I don't know the circumstances in which you were raised or… or how others like me have treated you, and I apologize for that. But I really wanted to meet you –ever since I learned about you."

"I'm not sure what you mean." Soren was eyeing him more suspiciously. His tense fingers casually fingered the Elthunder tome that was on his desk.

Kurthnaga finally brought himself to lower his hood as some kind of explanation. Soren's fingers convulsed subtly against the hard cover of the tome, his eyes never leaving Kurthnaga's. "I came here to see you were unharmed, Soren," he spoke softly.

"Are you…?" The question died in Soren's throat as if a cold stone had dropped into his stomach.

"My sister Almedha was worried, very worried when she heard of your imprisonment by King Ashnard's hand. She was powerless to save her only child. I… I couldn't leave my sister suffer so, and I couldn't accept that man harming any of you. I had to try to do something about it, even without the consent of my father, King Deghinsea," Kurthnaga explained, feeling exhausted suddenly. Soren remained silent, his mind processing agonizingly slowly what Kurthnaga was revealing to him.

After a short pause, Kurthnaga continued, "When I arrived at Daein, I knew I couldn't publicly expose myself, so I contacted and tipped off several people in Daein to rescue you before it was too late."

"Tauroneo was one of them," Soren deduced.

"Yes, you're correct. General Tauroneo was the first one to accept my request. We formed the group of soldiers that you have at your disposal today and we succeeded to free you, but there was another flaw to it…"

"Ashnard still holds my mother hostage," Soren stated dully.

Kurthnaga nodded, his eyes closed, mortified. "After the revolt, we couldn't… we didn't have enough resources to rescue Almedha. And she… she was willing to trade her own freedom for your safety."

Soren closed his eyes tightly shut too. _It sounds like… she never changes._

Some minutes passed by before the Goldoan prince could finally find his voice. "I didn't participate in the battle. I can't take the bloodshed and the chaos; I found that I was unable to keep a straight thought when I was there. I had no choice but to flee before I lost control of myself." He sighed heavily. "I separated from General Tauroneo's rebel force and lost contact with him. After many weeks of wandering in the countryside, I located this group I was traveling with recently and advised them to join you. That's how we all wounded up in here."

Soren opened his eyes into mere slits. "Everything seems a bit clearer now. I suppose I owe you for saving me then…"

"Please call me Kurth. I was merely doing my job as your uncle, but I did relatively little compared to General Tauroneo, who did most of the planning." He was more at ease now that he had told his nephew what had happened.

"Prince Soren? May I speak to you?" a voice called out from outside the tent. Soren's visage was blank again when he invited Micaiah in, Kurthnaga noticed. As soon as the silver-haired girl had removed the tent flap, she let out a small cry of surprise at seeing the Daein prince's guest. "Kurth! Oh, thank goodness you're alright!"

"Micaiah, it's good to know you're unharmed as well."

"Thank you. Ah, I hope I'm not interrupting you two…"

"No. We were just done speaking," Soren said, straightening from his previous slumped position on the chair. "Have you decided already?"

Micaiah nodded. "We've agreed to join you to help restore Daein," she said firmly.

"That's settled then. Your help is appreciated. You may retire now." Soren dismissed both Micaiah and Kurthnaga, feigning to ignore the latter's meaningful glance, 'I look forward to speaking with you again.'

Now alone, the prince shed the unnecessary garments and folded them into a neat pile. Extinguishing the oil lamp's light, Soren was left with his own thoughts as his only company before sleep came for him.

"'Restore Daein', huh. I wonder… if I can live up to that expectation on my shoulders," he murmured tiredly. Soren bitterly looked at his slender hands, barely visible in the dim light of the stars and the moon. They were tied, ever since he was born, he had no freedom. Ashnard was threatening him by holding Almedha hostage; his people were wishing to see Daein free of Ashnard's reign. And Soren knew that, sooner or later, he would have to sacrifice something precious to him in order to accomplish his countrymen's needs.

* * *

**A/N:** Here you go! I hope the, er, Brigade bashing wasn't _that _bad. I didn't intend to be so mean to them, but somehow I thought that Soren would _want_ to lash out on them, ha ha...  
I think the Dawn Brigade was also out of character; I don't remember very significant traits for some of them so I had to rely a bit on what wiki says. Also, the ages for Leonardo and Edward are... twicked. Yup, just say they're the same age as in RD, otherwise they'd be too young in here.  
I also changed some of Divergence's settings; I just noticed there's a filter for worlds now. But what I've said still stands, no pairings! Sorry!

Also, thank you so much for the feedback. I hope you continue enjoying this story C:


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